Holy spirits

Schism.
 Death. Despair. Rot
 
The smell of strawberries. 
Echo.  
They sort through a swarm of strange faces with the noise in the head and around. 
Loud noise makes it difficult to concentrate. Pierce the depths of the head. 
Pull each random face out and look at it. Over time the mental price of remembering 
these faces can run out of your control, but when the flashes of memories align 
and you can return them to one place, they're worth it.  
How did we get here?  
The sunlight? The warmth of it on your face. 
The hollow in your chest. A warmth that was the sun.
 Laughter. A flash of a light. A tower of bodies around us.
 The belonging to the sun. The return back into the sun.
 Our way through Schism.